


Inflammation Through Temptation

by Just_A_Random_Writer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, RDR2, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_A_Random_Writer/pseuds/Just_A_Random_Writer
Summary: When blunder causes the Van der Linde gang to fall into great despair after a robbery fails in the industrial town of Blackwater, Arthur Morgan and the gang must find consolation in a world of corruption. Involvement from the law and the bounty hunters that trail the gang force them to act on merciless acts of terror in order to survive. Together, the gang must ravage the cold heartland of America for isolation and truth. It's up to Arthur to question his own virtues when disaster strikes.Inept Pinkerton affiliate Laura Willis is a freelancer for the Pinkerton Detective Agency working on the Van der Linde gang case. Tables turn and an unexpected riverboat heist is conducted in Blackwater. She's then caught in the crossfire between the feud of two rivals. Forced to choose between two lives, she can either choose to right her wrongs and tie those loose ends by capturing the Van der Linde gang or she can free herself from a world of ongoing spur by living as an outlaw and finally gain an ounce of respect from someone.They find each other by reluctant and dangerous circumstances, yet they forge a fond relationship through due time. May they escape the crevice of crime, or will they forever remain in hiding?
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Inflammation Through Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur begins to write in a new journal. Then he and the rest of the men party till dawn.

_"I just bought this new journal, after the last one got destroyed in that fire all those months ago, whenever it was._

_Haven't written or drawn much in the past few months, but I was missing it more than I thought I would, and finally, I'm near this store in the town of Blackwater. So here I am, I guess._

_After all that business up North and the fire, we spent a few months in the wilderness, travelling down from the Northern Grizzlies, _ _stuck mostly in the western foothills of the mountains during the worst of the winter. Food was easy to find and life was good._

_Dutch has a lead for some land and we were going to buy, but the land did not match up to his criteria, as he got spooked we were being watched by the law and that somebody knew who he was, and we never bought it and we are wandering still._

_We picked up a couple of new folk in the Grizzlies._

_Jenny, a sweet young girl we met abandoned, and Micah, an outlaw Dutch met in a bar someplace. Dutch seems very taken aback with Micah, who is a hot-headed, argumentative and aggressive man. Hosea and I are less sure. His attitude to the rest of us gang has been a cold, deprecating shove on the shoulder yet Dutch seems to appeal to him, Dutch feeling the same way. It's weird.  
Yet I guess we shall see._

_Eventually, we came out of the wilderness and are now holed up outside of Blackwater, although sometimes I stay in town, hunting for opportunities._

_I might be on to something. We got plenty of money, and the trail we took was so tortuous and slow nobody could have followed in the south and east, or figured out where we was heading._

_We was thinking about California, but then Dutch and Hosea brought us down to Blackwater._

_Blackwater has apparently grown a whole lot since any of them was last here—I was told to expect little more than a trading post._

_But the place is growing fast, and it's almost a small city. The town seems to be riddles with corruptions, but there's certainly plenty of money here._

_It's good to be sleeping in a bed from time to time and living a more civilized life after so long under canvas, but I do not particularly like being this near a town._

_We are living here, camping outside town mostly, hidden in plain sight, I guess. Life seems pretty easy._

_I headed down there the other day, yet there seems to be no relent from patrolling the stressed streets of the town by lawmen. Blues align every building in sight, and it worries me. Ever since we'd gone into them mountains, I suppose security had been enhanced. Can't blame them, considering out escapades. Still have no idea how we escaped that fire, a while back._

_I also spot Pinkertons in the crowd. Wearing their significant and notable red lined coats and bowler hats. Only a small group walks through the street every now and then to look for mysterious conduct or something. Guess they ain't looking hard enough in the cracks._

_Around the camp, and especially at night, I can make out conspicuous, audible voices speaking loudly. It's hard not to realize it's just Abigail and Marston arguing. I keep wondering why exactly he came back. It's definitely not my territory to step in, and it's seems Abigail's doing a good enough jobs as is at cramming insults into him, but I still can't help but question his decisions lately. He cannot seem to decide if he wants to be a father to that boy of his or not._

_The arguing is exhausting. I also heard, whilst eavesdropping down in town, talk of a man with a description scarcely that of Trelawny, but we haven't seen him for many months. I fear he's probably dead._

_Hosea and I are onto something. Something pretty big—might be a lot of cash coming in to do with a real estate scam Hosea thinks he may of discovered._   
_I am not sure yet._   
_The perfect crime, we think—one where we rob crooks. We are being real careful._

_It's fun working with Hosea again. The man is an artist of nonsense. Even if nothing comes of it, we are having an amusing enough time._

_It's good to be running scams again. Hosea is a born huckster. He is getting anxious, worried that by lingering in town, we are going to bring undue attention on ourselves._

_But Dutch thinks he's also onto something big, his words, not mine, bank money being transported in by boat, apparently, so for now, we are working on both things and seeing what happens._

_Plan is to flee west into the desert country someplace if we can._

_Micah and Dutch are planning to rob the ferry in town with the rest of us men. They think it's laden with riches—cash coming in for the banks, coming in by boat._

_Of course I'm being involved in the job, as I always am, alongside the other cast of selected gang members with me. Dutch is leading us. Hosea insists he stays behind and works on the scam business we were working on before, which I believe will go well. Dutch seems overconfident, bright and less moody nowadays, and it's a nice change of pace._

_Plan is for us to carry out the job, then flee back to the wilderness for a single day. We return the following day, and Hosea will continue his scam and we'll join him and the gang after the law's suspicious behavior dies down._

_Dutch seems exceedingly excited for our heist. He's talking about California again, but he's also talking about a lot of other places._

_Hopefully something good will come out of this."_

I finish writing, clenching my pencil from wearing my wrist out. My pensive fingers cramp. I twist my wrist in a circle to crack the bones to relieve the cramping. It's been a long time since I'd ever written like that. I needed the time alone to distract myself. Relieve myself of some steam. Our new arrival at this campsite and our new members gave me the incentive to go ahead and visit the nearest town we were situated towards at for information. I picked up a new journal along the way as a replacement for the one I'd left behind back in the fire incident. Time to purchase a new one scattered as my schedule was often littered with jobs and chores. Hunting, scavenging. All the necessary camp jobs. Intent to buy a new journal was no longer considered a necessity for me—until now, in which it was needed. It helped me cope with the otherwise dire situation at hand. Didn't help that at the moment I was uneasy from a hunting trip earlier at midday. I was accompanied by Charles, a fairly recent recruit I met about half a year ago near some hitching post station near Annesburg.

He's a hardworking individual of native descent and had strong ties to a tribe he and his father lived in before disaster struck. He gave me strands of information that described his origins and his current homelessness. But I felt bad. I gave him the choice of coming back to camp with me to see if we could sort things out, feeling mild guilt for the man. Out of helplessness, he agreed. Of course, bringing him back erected attention in a camp just flowing with gossip. I explained my reasoning for returning with him to Hosea and Dutch, Hosea being understanding and supportive as he figured my opinion held more than enough weight to go without justification. Dutch was clearly full of suspicion, yet he let the poor man go on tight eyes. He offered Charles to stay in the end.

And he agreed. Stayed ever since. What can I say? He's a good shot. He can hold his own.

Past few weeks, we've been shuffling across the canvas of America, struggling in our quest for salvation. Isolation from the larger crowd. Lawmen, Pinkertons and Bounty Hunters were the reason for deportation to different areas constantly. It's been rough. Yet we've met some interesting folk along the way recently. This girl, Jenny, and a regular gunslinger like me, Micah. Jenny's a kindhearted woman. A petite, pretty and smart gal. We met her abandoned on the mountainous terrain near one of our previous campsites one time. She murmured on about a kidnapping, but that's all I can really recount from my faulty memory. Ain't something I want to exactly talk to her about right now, especially considering we picked her up ever so recently. She's fine addition to the gang and shows great potential. One thing I may of picked up on now is that Lenny, another recent recruit, may be attracted to her. There's chemistry in the cracks, and I see the couple get along well in the future. People such as myself have seemed to rest on our relentless attitude on her on account of her bright behavior.

What may not get along well is my relationship with the other man Dutch picked up, Micah. This damn outlaw similar to me. Dutch implores that we must learn to respect one another strictly, yet I see Micah as being a distraction. Needless to say, he sways Dutch in ways me and Hosea could never conceive. He's a strange fellow. Aggressive and self-contained is my description on his outward self. Confusion only emanates from me when I see him. My thoughts on him range the spectrum, but me and Hosea seem to agree on one thing; that Micah ain't exactly a straight man. My opinion is shared among the community of the gang, yet Dutch seeks in him "faith.". Ever since Micah and Dutch rode back on horseback acting so alike to camp, it'd rubbed me the wrong way. It's strange seeing him act so closely to a man we'd met just ever so recently, but I suppose it takes his mind off the fact we'd just encountered a near death incident from the fire. That, and we're in dire need of money.

Ever since we picked up the new folk, the camp had flourished. Not necessarily in a bad way, but things have more-or-less settled to have the camp members be somewhat neutral. I guess all we have to thank for that is Dutch. We're at a minute phase right now in which we'd gliding on the middle line, awaiting firefight. Silence has prospered the camp, and I feel blessed for it. Nevertheless, I should never be so unprepared.

I sigh. I whisk the blank pages of my journal in a whirl. The pages all turn at once in stunning speed. It's addicting. But it seems nothing is really helping in adequately removing my stress. Not even the journal, as peaceful as it could ever be. I flip the book onto the front cover and pat the brown leather before placing it neatly upon my pillow being gentle in my bestowed actions. I stand up, turning by torso 180 degrees. A satisfying crack erupts bringing me tension. I chuckle. Outside, I can hear the speech of men speaking around the campfire.

"Men, it is a good as time as ever to be alive in the Van der Linde gang!" I hear a quiet Dutch Van der Linde say. Cries of men clapping and applause loudens outside my decrepit tent. I give a hearty chuckle before heading outside my flapper. I'm greeted by the beautiful night sky which expands under my vision. Stars pan across the blank purple coloured void beyond. It's an incredible sight. I sigh, breathless at the revelation. I'm then briefly interrupted by Uncle who emerges from the corner of my vision and I'm met with the disgruntled drunk gibberish I'm used to responding to from Uncle.

"Mr. Morgan! Oh, why hello there!" Uncle grunts, following up in front of me. I give him a miniscule stare of concern for a moment at how lost he looks before speaking.

"Sleep it off, Uncle." he does this motion with his hand where he twitches his fingers up and down to mimic my mouth talking, teasing me. I sigh before plowing my hand into his chest to move him unwillingly out of the way.

"Out of the damn way." I say. I stroll past him in a mood. I peer over my shoulder and he's got his hands on his hips.

"I didn't do nothin' wrong, kid! What's your problem?"

I sigh, still walking away. I make my way to the campfire and I receive happy eye contact from the drunk, gloating men surrounding the campfire hungrily. None of the ladies are up at this hour and John isn't present, either. Jack's obviously asleep too.

"How ya'll doin'?" I say, trying to start conversation as I sit down on the mat set beside the log of where Dutch and the others are sitting on. Bill and Javier glance at me. Bill opens his mouth to speak but Javier immediately does instead. "Talking about that little heist we have on plan whilst celebrating!" Javier says briskly, smiling. I chuckle at his poor drunken facial expression.

"Drunk too much, Javier?" his face brightens.

"What 'bout'chu?" he says, out of the blue. My face crunches up.

"What do ya' mean?" I ask.

He creases his eyebrows in response. His hat spans over his forehead, creating a chasm in which you can't even see the bridge of his nose.

"If you're talkin' 'bout drinkin', well, naw. Don't do that no more. 'least at night. I'll gladly do it tomorrow." I say. Javier waves his hand, being slow and delayed.

"You're no fun, Mr. Morgan." he sneers at me playfully before peeking down to his side for a beer bottle. All the other men laugh at that and I chuckle with them. Dutch then appears beside me. He puts his hand on my shoulder as he speaks.

"Gentlemen!" he clears his throat to exemplify his point. He tips his hat down to me and I nod. Dutch has this golden grin and I return a smirk. He's a bit tipsy.

"We are about to perform the heist of a lifetime! We know the drill, we all do. Procedure is the same as always, so do not deviate! Now, faith is all I require from you men! All I ask of you now is to follow my formation and we will finally get out of this place!" he says, his voice shaking. Micah then walks up to Dutch from his tent and pats his hand on Dutch's shoulder.

"Exactly, men! Faith!" Micah says, clapping. We follow suit shortly after with applause. Everyone proceeds to drunkenly sprout in dancing and we all play dominoes and five finger fillet. We talk to each other, our voices rattling in our drunken, coerced state. Javier pulls out a guitar of some sort from his tent and strums to the beat and lyrics of the song. Hell, even Dutch and Hosea join in, content with our delusions. Midnight follows in pursuit of our fast-paced celebration. Laughs are hastily contained within our mouths as our bottles clink. It'll be a long day tomorrow.

* * *

I walk in haste towards my tent, stumbling in confession to my drunkenness. I couldn't repress my addiction to alcohol. My vision is hazy—and I feel like shit. Our night of debauchery was of steady decline once the sun appeared above the crack in the mountains. I declared my leave to the others that were still somehow awake and returned to my tent, stubbornly at that. Reaching the tent, I simply plop onto my bed feeling an urge sift through my stomach. I roll into the covers and slip my hat off onto the dresser beside me. Then worry started to bear at my bowel. Fear became clear to me. This heist felt strongly acute. Even though the plan was approved by Dutch himself and Hosea, it just felt wrong. Maybe it was the vomit steadily irking up into my mouth, but it was a thought. But the power duo did only express happiness for the operation, so I allowed the concern to pass.

** _To whom their own, I suppose._ **


End file.
